


pull you out of the wreckage

by MissSugarPlum



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: (i don't really know how else to tag this without giving everything away), Additional Tags to Be Added, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Happy Ending, Gen, Not beta-read, angst and hurt/comfort and lots of feels, shifting pov, team flash and the rogues are reluctant partners
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 15:25:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6056632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSugarPlum/pseuds/MissSugarPlum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iris breathes in deeply, trying to calm the nerves that are making her fingers twitch and her heart beat a terrifying rhythm in her chest.</p><p>The last text message she had gotten had been precise, succinct, just the necessary information required.</p><p>
  <i>Saints and Sinners. Nine o’clock. Come alone, and come unarmed.</i>
</p><p>There hadn’t been any sort of threat tacked onto the end, not that there needed to be. The message had been all too clear even without one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pull you out of the wreckage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kashinoha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kashinoha/gifts).



> Hello, kiddies! Me again, and I come bearing gifts - this one specifically for the darling [kashinoha](http://kashinoha.tumblr.com), whose birthday was last month (shut up, I'm late, I know, I suck okay) and who prompted me with this gem of a story. (I'm sorry it's so late, but I wanted to do your prompt justice and make it as perfect as I could! Hopefully I succeed, hahaha.)
> 
> (It took a lot to get the ball rolling on this, and then I realized I was trying to make it way too short and not nearly detailed enough, so congrats, you all get another chaptered fic. XD)
> 
> Huge, massive thanks to [Jamie](http://dragdragdragon.tumblr.com) for helping me work some parts out - she is a gem and a treasure and without her this probably wouldn't make nearly as much sense. <3
> 
> My goal is to get all of this out by _my_ birthday ~~(lololol we'll see how that goes)~~ and thankfully I know pretty much exactly how it's all going to go, so... fingers crossed!
> 
> Happy (belated) birthday my darling, I hope you enjoy! <333
> 
> (Title from All Time Low's Time Bomb; all chapter titles from Paramore's Let The Flames Begin)

Iris breathes in deeply, trying to calm the nerves that are making her fingers twitch and her heart beat a terrifying rhythm in her chest.

 

The last text message she had gotten had been precise, succinct, just the necessary information required.

 

_Saints and Sinners. Nine o’clock. Come alone, and come unarmed._

 

There hadn’t been any sort of threat tacked onto the end, not that there needed to be. The message had been all too clear even without one.

 

Iris takes another deep breath, squaring her shoulders underneath the worn, beaten-down leather jacket she had stolen from the back of her dad’s closet earlier in the evening, and tries to convince her feet to take her across the parking lot and actually _inside_ the bar.

 

As if summoned by her train of thought, her phone chimes once in her pocket. Iris brings it out with shaking fingers, grateful for the excuse to delay just a little bit longer.

 

_Are you going to stand out there all night freezing your ass off, or are you going to come inside?_

 

Iris rolls her eyes and pockets her phone once more, resolve hardening as she grits her teeth, glaring at the front door of the dingy establishment. Her fury and her fear and her sheer determination to _fix things_ chase away any lingering misgivings she might have still had, and she yanks open the door ferociously, marching inside before she can second-guess herself any more than she already has.

 

Her only hope is that she can actually find the help she needs here, in the very last place she wanted to look, because if she can’t?

 

She refuses to think of what would happen, _can’t_ let herself think of what would happen.

 

She’s getting what she came here for, no matter what Leonard Snart has to say about it.

 

-x-

 

_“Any news?” Iris asks wearily, scrubbing her hands down her face as she steps into the cortex fully. Realistically, she’s not expecting anything_ _—_ _not after how long it’s been_ _—_ _but she can’t help the tiny, terrible tendril of hope curling in her chest, the way it does every time she asks._

 

_Caitlin sighs from her perch on the side of Cisco’s desk, looking more ragged and less put-together than Iris has ever seen her. “Not yet,” she says, trying for optimism, and Iris doesn’t have the heart to tell her it’s not working._

 

_Cisco doesn’t even twitch from his spot at his desk, slumped over three keyboards, fingers tugging painfully at his hair, and Iris feels a sharp stab of sympathy. She knows they’re all beyond sick with worry, but Cisco and Caitlin have both refused to leave STAR Labs, would have refused sleep and food and anything else if they thought it would help, pushing themselves past the brink of exhaustion in their dogged determination._

 

 _“If I could just find out where they took him,” Cisco mumbles into the crook of his arm, and Caitlin strokes his hair soothingly with one hand as the other rubs at the deep purple circles under her eyes. “But I’ve looked everywhere,_ everywhere _, and I can’t find him. I don’t even know where to_ look _, anymore.”_

 

 _An awful idea, a truly horrendous one that’s been whispering in the back of her mind for a few days now, comes unbidden to the forefront of Iris’s thoughts, and she bites her lip uncertainly, unsure of how it will be received but desperate for anything,_ anything _that could help them in this dark, bleak hour. “Cisco,” she starts hesitantly, and she hates the way Cisco peeks up at her, reluctant hope creeping into his expression. “Do you… have a way to contact Golden Glider?”_

 

_“Lisa_ _—_ _” Caitlin starts, confused and alarmed, but Cisco interrupts her before she can puff up in indignation._

 

_“I might,” he says warily, but Iris can already see a renewed sense of purpose in the set of Cisco’s shoulders as he finally straightens up. “Why do you ask?”_

 

_Iris smiles grimly, braces herself for the reaction to what she’s about to say. “I think I know someone who might be able to help.” She pauses, searches Cisco’s and Caitlin’s expectant, almost eager faces, and decides to just go for it. “Leonard Snart.”_

 

-x-

 

The interior of the bar is even more sparsely lit than the outside and not nearly as charming, the light fixtures grimy and the patrons even grimier. It takes several long moments for Iris’s eyes to adjust, and she feels uncomfortably vulnerable in a way she very rarely has before.

 

She feels the hair on the back of her neck stand in the next moment and she turns abruptly, spotting the source almost instantly—Leonard Snart is sitting at a corner booth, light eyes piercing through the gloom and focused on her with a laser-like intensity. He’s surrounded on three sides by a swarm of Rogues, all with varying degrees of threat on their faces and intimidation in their stances, and Iris is loathe to admit that it’s an impressively powerful display.

 

She swallows down her nerves and picks her way carefully through the few people separating her from her goal, and Snart smirks at her when she approaches the table, giving off the air of looking down at her even though she’s the one standing over him.

 

“Miss West,” he says, drawing out the words slowly, and the normally soft melody of consonants sounds harsh and staccato in his mouth.

 

“Snart,” Iris replies coolly, and she takes the seat across from him without waiting for an invitation, face impassive.

 

Snart’s eyebrows quirk up like he’s maybe impressed at her gall, and he must have given some sort of silent signal or done something that Iris can’t see or isn’t privy to, because in the next moment most of the Rogues have dispersed, and it’s just the two of them and Lisa and Mick Rory, all seated together like a parody of a fun night out or the world’s strangest standoff.

 

“I’ll admit to being surprised at your call,” Snart says in cool amusement, finally breaking the tense silence between them. “Hope you don’t mind the late hour—things’ve been a bit hectic ’round here, what with the spike in certain… _extralegal_ activities recently.”

 

Iris grits her teeth, can’t help the clenching of her fists at the deliberately vague allusion to Barry’s forced absence, and Snart’s smirk grows at her loss of composure.

 

Lisa and Mick have been silent so far, overseeing their little tête-à-tête with pursed lips and narrowed eyes, but Mick cuts in now, voice a low rumble directed at Iris. “How ’bout you tell us why you’re here, and we can get on to decidin’ how we’re gonna spend the rest of our night.”

 

Snart glares a little at the interruption of his dramatics, but ultimately lets it slide as he too turns his gaze back to Iris, expectant and waiting and not a little bit curious.

 

Iris steels herself. “Barry’s missing,” she starts, and Snart snorts.

 

“And why should I be concerned about a missing CSI?” he queries, but Iris gets the feeling it’s more for show in front of Lisa and Mick, who are sharing a faintly perplexed look.

 

A strange rush of gratitude fills Iris for Snart’s insistence on keeping his end of his and Barry’s deal, but right now, in this moment, Iris doesn’t care about spilling the beans to these two—getting Barry back is Iris’s number one priority, and keeping his identity a secret is far less important than keeping him safe. “You know _damn_ well why you should be concerned,” she says angrily, and Mick tenses at her tone while Lisa raises her eyebrows in shock and Snart continues in his inscrutable stoicism. “ _The Flash_ is missing, and I need your help to find him.”

 

“What makes you think I’d be interested in helping him?” Snart asks, and Iris holds in a wince, because that’s the hope she’s riding on, isn’t it? “Business has never been better—why would I want to jeopardize that?”

 

“Because he’s not just _missing_ ,” Iris snaps, and the words all tumble out in a rush. “The Santinis have him.”

 

Snart sits up straighter at that, looking interested at long last, and shares an indecipherable look with his sister and Mick.

 

“The Santinis,” Mick growls, a fire in his eyes that wasn’t there before, and Len shushes him offhandedly, gaze still locked on Iris.

 

“How do you know it was them?”

 

“Because I was with him when when they took him,” Iris says wearily, suddenly exhausted, and the frustration and the fear and the _guilt_ that has been festering all boil over, fill her lungs and clog her throat and refuse to let her say anything more.

 

The other three occupants of the table fall silent after that, and Iris watches the way they communicate wordlessly, fascinated with the understanding they all share.

 

Snart shakes his head sharply at the other two, growls out, “ _Mick_ ,” and Mick snorts, crossing his huge arms.

 

Lisa rolls her eyes, distinctly unimpressed. “Lenny,” she says, soft yet firm, and something in her brother’s expression seems to yield to her, even as his eyes harden.

 

“Fine,” he finally says. “Suppose we’ll help you. But don’t think we’re doing this out of the goodness of our hearts.”

 

The tidal wave of relief that crashes over Iris at his words dizzies and almost drowns her, and she can’t help the way her shoulders slump with alleviated tension. “ _Thank you_ ,” she says fervently, and Snart laughs sharply. It’s not a nice sound.

 

“Don’t thank us yet,” he says, words clipped, but there’s an undercurrent of something darkly mirthful in them. “We’ll be expecting payment.”

 

“Anything,” Iris finds herself promising, and she can’t even bring herself to care about any potential backlash.

 

Not as long as they can help get Barry back to her, safe and sound.

 

All three of them perk up at her pledge, and she can practically see the wheels turning in each of their minds. “Lisa, Mick,” Snart says at length, a lilt in his voice and a pleased curl to his smirk, “suit up. We’ve got a job to do.” His eyes snap back to Iris as he stands fluidly, and she cranes her head up to keep her eyes on his. “Expect a call,” he tells her succinctly, tone clearly a dismissal, and he saunters away from the table without another word to any of them.

 

Lisa smirks at her after he vanishes from sight, but the expression is somewhat softer than usual, tempered with what Iris thinks is actual concern. She gets up without comment, sashaying along after her brother, but the ghost of her fingers flits along the line of Iris’s shoulders, fleeting and ephemeral but enough of a promise that Iris is very nearly soothed by the touch.

 

“We’ll burn those Santini bastards alive,” Mick rumbles thunderously, eyes wild and incandescent, and Iris can’t even find it in herself to be disturbed by his pronouncement or the craze in his expression.

 

They agreed to help find Barry—who is she, the woman who begged for their assistance, to question their methods?

 

Iris thinks she may end up eating her words, but the mantra of _findBarryfindBarryfindBarry_ in every beat of her heart and every breath in her lungs and every thought in her head won’t let her regret her decision, even for a moment.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://that-pumpkinspicewhitegirl.tumblr.com)!


End file.
